The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (72 page)

Several competing voices were raised in opposition to Dominil's plan but they were silenced by a roar from the Thane. Markus had come into
the meeting determined not to allow it to degenerate into the same sort of disarray that had blighted the previous two nights. He demanded silence.

“I trust Dominil's judgment,” he said. “And I trust this plan. It's true that Kalix is still outlawed but as Thane I'm giving her authorization to be involved. I have the authority to do that. I also have the authority to approve the plan, which I now do.” Markus swept his gaze round the table. “This council has previously agreed that something needed to be done about the Guild. They've become bolder and now threaten werewolves everywhere. I won't allow that to continue. We will attack them. I'll lead the attack. Thrix, you said you needed twenty werewolves? From this room, myself, Thrix, Dominil and Decembrius have all volunteered already. Eskandor, captain of the castle guard, is one of our most experienced fighters. He'll go too, along with Feargan MacRinnalch, his deputy, and Barra, the castle sergeant. That makes seven MacRinnalchs. Each baron—MacPhee, MacGregor and MacAllister—will provide four werewolves for the mission. That makes nineteen werewolves. I'll instruct the MacAndris Clan to provide one warrior, making twenty, and another two as back-up in case anyone withdraws. Kalix herself will not take part in the attack. Are there any objections?”

There were sullen faces around the table, but no one voiced an objection. The Thane had a right to exert his authority in time of war.

Lucia, perhaps thinking of her sister Verasa, did have a query. “Are you sure you should lead the mission, Markus? You're the Thane—what if something happens to you?”

Lucia looked to her sister, expecting support, but the Mistress of the Werewolves seemed unconcerned about her son going to London to fight.

“I'll lead the mission,” said Markus emphatically. “I'll expect the barons to send their most suitable werewolves to the castle while we make plans. We should be able to leave in a matter of days.”

CHAPTER 137

The Empress's jeweled throne room had plunged to a temperature rarely experienced by any Hainusta. Courtiers shivered as they attended their monarch. Guards pulled their cloaks tighter, cursing whatever terrible occurrence had put Kabachetka in such a bad mood. The Empress's internal
fire had sunk so low that she was now sucking heat from the atmosphere, rather than spreading it around.

“Where is Distikka?” cried the Empress. “Did I not summon her an hour ago?”

“She approaches the throne room,” replied an attendant, and tried not to look cold, for fear of insulting the Empress. The torches on the wall were dimming as if not only the heat but the light too was being sucked out of existence. Distikka walked into the throne room and bowed politely. She did not appear to notice the temperature.

“Where have you been?”

“Attending to your affairs in London.”

“Did I ask you to do that?”

“Yes.”

The Empress scowled. “Well, I'm sure I asked you to do it more quickly. Do you know what has happened?”

“A handbag crisis?”

“Exactly!” cried the Empress, completely missing Distikka's sarcasm. “How did you know?”

“I—”

“Never mind how you know. I attended the Fashion Show in Aid of Famine in Africa, carrying my favorite quilted handbag, which Lady Gezinka assured me was still in fashion, only to find that it had passed so far out of fashion as to earn me mocking looks and several whispered comments. Imagine the humiliation!” The Empress folded her arms and glared at Distikka. “How could this happen? Why was there no one to advise me?”

For once, Distikka was at a loss. “Who normally advises you about handbags?”

“Bakmer. But he is not here because I banished him to the kitchens for his unsatisfactory behavior at the ball. And look what it has led to!”

The temperature dropped another few degrees. In the far corner Kabachetka's handmaid Alchet began to whimper.

“Then why not just recall Bakmer?” asked Distikka.

“It would be admitting I made a mistake in banishing him. I would lose face. You must sort this out.”

“How?”

“How? Is it not obvious? Adviser Bakmer must beg for his position back so I may mercifully reinstate him. Make that happen. Ensure he begs in a suitably pathetic manner. I need him back quickly. There may be another charity fashion event at any time; I am informed that famines in
Africa are not uncommon.”

“Very well, Empress,” said Distikka. “Would you like to hear about your affairs on Earth?”

“Which affairs?”

“Your investments, for one thing. I made some recent adjustments, and they're doing very well.”

The Empress did not seem interested to learn that her investments were doing well. Distikka carried on. “Also, I believe the werewolves will attack very soon. I've arranged for our spying to be stepped up.”

“Good. Are the hunters prepared?”

“They are.”

The Empress nodded. The temperature rose a fraction. She turned to Alchet. “Leave the throne room,” she said.

Alchet hurried out, relieved to be free of the cold. The Empress dismissed her remaining courtiers, leaving her alone with Distikka. The Empress's throne room was impregnable to any sort of sorcerous spying but even so, she waved her hand in the air, placing an extra layer of protection around them.

“It is time to get rid of Sarapen. Please arrange it.”

Distikka raised her eyebrows. “Why now?”

“He has resisted falling in love with me for too long. I am now bored with him.”

“He only survives because you provide him with protection. Without it he would die in the heat. Why not simply withdraw the protection?”

“Really, Distikka, I am shocked. Do you know nothing of the rules of hospitality?”

“I wasn't aware they applied to a person you wished to see killed.”

“That is because you were never properly educated, I regret to say. The rules of hospitality clearly state that sorcerous protection, once granted, cannot be withdrawn.”

“But assassination is acceptable?”

“Of course,” said the Empress. “Assassinations do not breach our ancient codes.”

“Very well,” said Distikka. “I'll arrange it.”

CHAPTER 138

On instructions from Dominil, Kalix spent an uncomfortable two days in Kennington Park, learning how to ride a bicycle. She'd never owned one as a child. Bicycles were not a common sight at Castle MacRinnalch. She'd borrowed the bike from Moonglow, who never rode it either. Kalix found it humiliating learning to ride the bike, and wheeled it to the furthest part of the park where there were less people to laugh at her for falling off. She stuck to her task, and mastered it well enough for her purposes. She was confident enough to ride back home from the park, though she went slowly, and dismounted at traffic lights to push it across the road on the pedestrian crossing.

“This isn't going to be much good for making a quick escape,” she mused, as she trundled home.

Kalix didn't really know if she'd be making an escape. She might be killed in the Guild's headquarters. Or perhaps the werewolves would all flood in when she was still there. Dominil hadn't told her details of her plan. Kalix was due to meet her at Thrix's apartment later in the afternoon. Kalix bridled at the thought of actually visiting Thrix, but accepted it as necessary for the success of their mission.

Moonglow was starting to immerse herself in her coursework for next year at university, now only a few weeks away. She'd been hinting broadly that Daniel, Kalix and Vex do likewise. None of them had responded. As Kalix left the flat, on her way to visit Thrix in Knightsbridge, she reflected that she was very unlikely to be starting a second year at her remedial college. She regretted this. She hadn't exactly enjoyed her time there, but she was pleased her reading and writing had improved. She'd always been shamed by her poor literacy. Given another year's study she thought she might have approached something like a normal standard.

Kalix walked past the shops in Knightsbridge without looking in the windows. They were expensive shops, and when she reached Thrix's block, that seemed expensive too. Kalix felt out of place. She began to feel anxious as she rang the downstairs buzzer.

Thrix better not say anything stupid or annoying
.

Inside the apartment block there were plant pots in the corridors. The hallways were carpeted, clean, well lit and well cared for. It struck Kalix that Thrix must have paid a lot of money to live here. She wondered if it
had all come from her fashion business, or if the family had helped.

Thrix opened the door. Neither of them spoke as Kalix entered. The awkwardness was alleviated by Dominil's presence, though she wasn't effusive in her greetings either. Kalix was surprised to find the apartment less tidy than she'd expected. Clothes were strewn about, and books and scrolls, and empty wine glasses.

“Did you learn how to ride a bicycle?” asked Dominil.

“Just about. It's difficult. Can you do it?”

“I learned how to at Oxford.”

Kalix could imagine Dominil as a student, cycling around with her books in a basket. “So what's the plan?” she asked.

“You're to deliver a package from the Merchant to the Guild. We don't know for certain what sort of alarms they have but we know you can't be detected.”

Dominil produced a small purple flower. She'd had it for several days though it showed no sign of wilting. “You need to hide this inside the building.”

Kalix took the flower. “OK. I can do that.”

“I'm not sure you appreciate how dangerous this might be,” said Dominil.

“Stop saying that,” said Kalix. “I know it's dangerous. I don't care.”

“Very well.” Dominil picked up a bundle of clothes from the table. “You'd better try these on.”

Kalix was alarmed to see that Dominil had provided her with a pair of black Lycra cycling shorts and a high-visibility yellow jacket.

“This is what cycle couriers wear,” said Dominil. “I checked.”

“I'll look ridiculous.”

“That's hardly important, is it?”

Dominil also handed Kalix a cycling helmet and a pair of cycling goggles. “These will help to disguise you. With your hair tied back and hidden inside your jacket you should be hard to recognize.”

Kalix tried on the outfit. “I
do
look ridiculous.”

“You do,” said Thrix. “I've never seen a cycle courier with such skinny legs.”

“They were fine for modeling your stupid shorts,” retorted Kalix, who wasn't going to take criticism from her sister, though she also thought that her legs looked far too skinny for a person who made a living cycling.

“The disguise will suffice,” said Dominil. “After you've planted the flower, I'll be waiting round the corner in my car. With luck we can depart
without anyone knowing we've been there.”

“So when do we attack?” asked Kalix.

“You don't,” said Thrix.

“What do you mean I don't?”

“You're not in the raiding party. Markus says you're not going.”

“I am going,” said Kalix hotly.

“The council didn't want to include you at all,” said Dominil. “You're still outlawed.”

Kalix glared at Dominil then at Thrix. “I'm not staying behind,” she said. “When you attack, I'm coming with you. If you try to keep me away I'll just follow you in.”

Thrix shrugged. “I told you she'd say that. Personally, I don't care who's there as long as I can get inside the building.”

“I tend to agree,” said Dominil. “I won't prevent you from participating. It may be necessary for you to join the party at the last minute, to prevent others from objecting.”

Kalix was still suspicious. “You'd better not try to exclude me.”

“We won't,” said Dominil. “Now if you'll take a seat, I'll explain the plan.”

They sat at Thrix's dining table. Thrix swept aside a bundle of papers to make space for Dominil's iPad. She poured more whisky for each of them, and listened as Dominil went over their plans with Kalix.

“We're hoping that the ‘Maynista Princess Two Flower Pathway' will take us straight in.”

Kalix found herself smiling faintly. Unlike certain other werewolves, she was pleased at the thought of using magic from the Fairy Queen to attack the Avenaris Guild. Having the spell was a good omen. It was clever of Dominil to have obtained it. Kalix imagined herself running howling through the fairy pathway into the Guild's headquarters, full of her werewolf power, ready to spread destruction.

CHAPTER 139

Sarapen climbed the long spiral staircase leading to the palace's rooftop yellow flame garden. He often came here at night. Usually it was deserted. It was not a popular place with the Empress or her fashionable
friends, being difficult to reach. There was another flame garden lower down, easily accessible from one of the mezzanine floors on the palace's south wing. There the Empress often entertained guests. Sarapen might have gone there tonight, but he'd had his fill of the Empress's friends. He was heartily sick of the palace and everyone in it, including the Empress. Even since gazing through the portal back to his own world, Sarapen had thought about little else. He wondered if Dominil had made any progress in helping him. Sarapen didn't doubt that she'd be trying. Dominil was a werewolf of her word, and wouldn't abandon him.